He took the wine and the rest of the linen from her, and rising, went away among the trees. He bathed his face with the wine, swathed his legs with the linen, and put his hands ruefully through the rents in his cassock. It seemed to be hanging by shreds, and his skin showed in a dozen places. “Martin!” He rejoined her, looking very solemn, but she was holding up a rich red cloak that she had unstrapped from De Lisle’s saddle. “This will serve.” She tossed it to him, and he flung it over his shoulders and tied the laces. “A new color.” “And no ill color either.” Mellis picked up her own green cloak and fastened it so that it made her look more of a woman. She blushed, and gave Martin a shy, laughing glance. “This man’s gear does not please me. I shall have to thieve or borrow. And, alas! all the world has gone against us.” De Lisle’s red figure lying there stark and still made them remember the peril that threatened them. The Red Rose was in the dust; the Forest was but a hunting ground for my Lord of Troy and his riders; the gallows at Troy Castle would bear deadly fruit. Mellis’s eyes darkened, and her face lost some of its soft, rounded light. “God help us! This has been an ill day for the Forest. And yet—they were my enemies!” She stole a glance at Fulk’s body. “Let us go, dear comrade. We have no friends now—save each other. How dark this wood is!” “Where would you go?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Ah! what a question! Where? Into the deep woods with the wild things, and so somewhere where our faces are not known. I would live a little while yet, Martin, for life can be sweet—now.” He looked at her strangely. “Yes; you are too beautiful to die.” The horse that Martin had ridden had wandered off into the wood, but Fulk de Lisle’s was at his service. Moreover, the dead man’s sword and dagger might have their uses, and for the better carrying of them Martin took Fulk’s belt and buckled it about him. “I like it not,” he said; “but necessity is our master.” He helped Mellis to her saddle, unfastened the horses, and mounted Fulk de Lisle’s. Then he hesitated, looking into Mellis’s eyes, for he knew not where to turn. “Which way?” “On through the wood. Thanks be to God, I was born in the Forest.” _Chapter XXXIX_ Mellis knew the ways, and through all the heat of the day she guided Martin southwards toward the Rondel river, picking up the wild tracks and never faltering in her choice. They kept to the woods, and avoided the open heaths, sometimes following a brown stream that flickered under the green shadows and leaving it when it left the woods. Not a living creature did they see save a few deer far down a deep glade, a hawk searching for food, and once, a gray-green snake basking on a bank in the sun.